


Day of rage

by MarieLamb_B



Series: Ink Shape [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Don't ask why he knows he coffee tastes like socks, Foul Language, Frustration, He wished he could be Wally's dad, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Norman's a good friend, Regrets, Sammy is an oblivious idiot, Susie just likes gossips, Tag Warnings!, That's how light befalls upon such a knucklehead, The begining of all their relationship, Verbal Humiliation, Wally didn't deserve that, Wanna try and put an elephant dancing around him?, anger issues, little details, poor boy, rough day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieLamb_B/pseuds/MarieLamb_B
Summary: No one should ever cross paths with an angry, frustrated, livid Music Director. Guess say Wally was just unfortunate...





	Day of rage

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I'm quite on a writer's streak, no?  
...  
No, not really. This was supossed to be done about... 3 weks ago?
> 
> Yep, now we start with late submissions for the Ink DeMonth. But this was something planned, it's just that the prompts gave chance to put them all out with its list :3
> 
> And also sorry about this. I didn't know it would take that long... I guess I left myself carried away ^^U
> 
> Anyways, too long, but still hope you enjoy this!! ^O^

This was a bad day. Bad, bad, in every single sense. Bad sleeping, bad morning, bad breakfast, bad trip to work. Bad, annoying, frustrating. Everything. Was. Bad.

Being usually moody and gruff was one thing; being faced to a severe writing block and frustrated all over every single note he put on paper was way another level of anger. And it was better for _anyone_ in the studio to stay away from him, as his mood was so tense that he was even able to tell the president himself to go fuck himself.

If only Wally didn’t disturb him...

_“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, FRANKS. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A MORON!”_ The oh, so unfair scolding could be heard from the music department hall. _“You can’t even do 1 single fucking thing right!”_ Norman flinched as he walked off the infirmary, Jack hiding behind him. “But no, of course you _can’t_. why would I have thought you could?!” Even the window from his office trembled with how loud the frustrated musician was being.

“Mr. Lawrence, I’m sorry. I just–”

“I DON’T WAN’T ANY OF YOUR EXCUSES, KID!” He cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from the poor janitor about whatever fault he had committed. “Now I want you to stop meddling here around and GO TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!” He sentenced with a rage fist smashing against his own desk, making it shake and sending down to the floor a pile of sheets and paperwork precariously balanced; right were the janitor’s mop and dirty water was laying.

The fall was as in slow motion for the wide eyes of the young man, and he acted quickly in hopes of saving the musician’s hard work. Albeit for his misfortune, the sole idea he concreted to successfully save the fluttering sheets was to kick away the bucked and mop, causing quite a mess at the other side of the man’s office.

For a second, he could have felt pretty pride for his quick action in such a desperate moment. But the musician did not allow such instance, as he was the closest to literally fuming out of rage over the janitor’s reaction.

This day started bad, and was about to get worse for the younger man.

“THE FUCK HAVE YOU JUST DONE!” Sammy shrieked, and Wally flinched.

“Mi– mi– mister Lawrence, I– I...” He stumbled on his words as he dropped in the floor, picking up clumsily the papers the other man just threw with his rage.

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR A SINGLE SHIT FROM YOU!” His voice thundered, and Wally froze in the spot. “Get. Out. Of my office.” He hissed rather menacingly.

“Bu– But Mr. Lawrence, I have ta clean up tha–!”

_“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”_ He sentenced violently, and Wally stared with panicked eyes. “I don’t want to see your goddamn face! _Ever!_”

And just like that, every bit of air escaped of the janitor’s lungs as if he was knocked. He felt his eyes starting to sting, and for a much sharp hearing, even could be perceived how his heart just broke.

Numb, in attempt to hide the pain the man’s rage caused over him, Wally simply stood up, leaving the papers he got to pick up on the desk, tilting his cap as to hide his stare in its shadow, and turning around towards the door, reaching for his mop and bucket in the process.

“Understood, Mr. Lawrence.” He said low and quietly as he left, leaving the enraged man panting with his glare lock on him even through the window, as if making sure the janitor won’t ruin anything in his departure.

Once he was absolutely out of sight, Sammy paced by his office, only to slip on the soapy water of the damn bucket that stupid boy left unattended, falling back and hitting his head hard. He let out a painful grunt; he should have let the boy to clean up before kicking out the poor janitor...

*-*-*-*-*

_“What’s wrong with Wally?”_

_“I have no clue at all...”_

_“Didn’t you hear all that shouting from Sammy’s office?”_

_“You should never cross path with that man when he’s in such bad mood.”_

_“That guy is the front-man of any anger campaign.”_

_“Wally didn’t deserve such treat. He was just doing his job!”_

_“Well, what could be done? He was just the one being there to receive the blow. Wrong time and wrong place, I guess...”_

_“Wait, did Sammy hit the boy?!”_

_“Don’t take my words out of context!”_

_“Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter now. It’s not like any could fix what’s already done...”_

*-*-*-*-*

The word spread easily around the studio, and soon pretty much everyone –except those too busy to get out and chat– knew about the raging music director and the poor janitor that was there to serve as punching-sack for the former.

But even if they all wanted to catch in the last of the studio’s savory rumor, no one really expressed real, earnest concern, as the young man, listening to all of their bickering, trying to asking him something about further details, wouldn’t mind them. He just passed by, complying with his duties, and left with no more than a couple of courtesy words. No one really cared, as no one really knew how deep this was really affecting the janitor, except for Norman.

The taller man made his way towards Sammy’s office, easy going. Any other rage day he would just avoid the man, not willing to be involved in unnecessary quarrels, but the heartless way he treated the young janitor actually made him set up his mind. Not like he was up for a senseless fight with that man, after all, that’s right what he pretended to callback into that man: sense.

Reaching the musician’s door, he knocked to make his presence noted. “Hey, Sammy. How you doin’?” Only a muttered growl he received as answer; obviously wasn’t the right question to ask, but he couldn’t care less. His sight wandered to the office’s surroundings, and he locked his stare in the wet spot that took over the entrance zone of the room. “Mind to explain why’s wet all the place?”

“Because that _stupid kid_ kicked his bucket there.” Sammy grumbled. Now that Norman was seeing clearly he could notice the man’s back was pretty much soaked. Definitively wasn’t going to touch _that_ topic.

“Why would he do so?” He inquired again, earning a soft growl easily compared to a dog which food was taken off its muzzle. “Sorry to tell I didn’ get a word of you say.”

“I SAID,” He rose his voice, quite loudly. “How would I know how that moron’s head does work? He just did it.” He stated dryly, though Norman knew better, and a slight wobble in his tone was one of hiding things.

“...Yeah, sure, because he _loves_ make you angry and get in your bad side.” He retorted, waiting for another of the same tone from Sammy but only silence lingered, leaving space for him to insist. “Seriously, why did so?”

“...because some sheets of mine almost fell over the bucket...” He admitted, his voice lowered.

“Almost?”

“Ok. They _FELL_ over the bucket. He kicked it out of the way.” And slouched over his desk.

An appreciative hum, and Norman kept inquiring. “Why did ‘em fell?”

Silence; shoulders hunched, almost as if trying to turn as tiny as he could.

“Sammy...”

“_I DROP THEM! Happy?_” He finally turned to face the projectionist, red face but at this point could be said it was more over shame than rage. He was panting, trying to keep his rage façade, but Norman only shook his head in disapproval.

“And even though you called out on the boy as if he really was just horsin’ around only to piss you off.” And Sammy turned back over his desk, gripping his hair in frustration but struggling to not voice it out loud. He heard Norman clicking his tongue in reprehension before leaving. “That boy don’ deserves you...”

Sammy’s head shot up at the phrase, but when he turned to ask the projectionist what he meant the man already left; actually, already was half way the hall near the organist room, never turning back and holding his hands behind.

What did he just say? What did that even mean?! Ugh, that only made him feel confused and that turned only in more anger. _Just perfect,_ now he won’t be able to focus in his already useless task.

*-*-*-*-*

No. Wrong. Trash. Piece of shit! _Nothing came out right! _At this point not even the sheets Wally rescued for him were useful anymore, as now they were part of a steadily growing pile of crumbled rejects all over the floor.

So now he just was there, head against the desk, swallowing back every urge to shout out loud even the deepest of the growls. Vain attempts that were interrupted by the delicate sound of the squeaking hinges of his door. He peeked over his shoulder and started to shot daggers to the unwelcomed visitor.

“So– so– sorry, Mr. Lawrence, but I can’t find–...” Wally stammered, feeling the scorching glare of the man as if was carving holes through his skull. He still wasn’t forgiven... “Ah... Nevermind, Mr. Lawrence. I’ll just look somewhere else. Sorry fer interrupting ya...” And with no more fanfare than a soft mournful murmur, he left.

The door closed softly and the steps of the janitor marching away were quiet. Sammy just watched him through his window, reaching to see the young man meeting with the projectionist at the end of the hallway. Some words were exchanged; a sag on the younger’s shoulders, lying his head on the elder’s chest, to finally be held on a side hug and be leaded out of sight by the taller man.

And as he watched, Norman’s words resonated in his mind again, turning him again thoughtful, for it to be turned in confusion, to it to be turned in anger again.

_He had no time for such senseless shit._

He got back over his desk, rather abrupt must say, and he tumbled his empty mug down the table. Lucky him, it fell on the trashcan where a pile of discarded sheets lied. He lunged to pick it up, but a clinking sound caught his attention.

Wally’s keys...

*-*-*-*-*

Ugh, this was pointless! What a waste of precious time, and still can’t go and get a single. Fucking. Note written down. How could be so hard deciding between a F sharp and a G flat?

Worst of all, his head was starting to pound heavily. He really needed a coffee.

He straightened up in his chair, ready to call the janitor as he usually prepared his coffee around the noon (what kind of services did Joey put him on charge, he still didn’t understand). But he froze as he recalled the events of the day. Could he call him to ask him his usual just like that? And think on the matter felt like a punch to his pride, but something else clenched in his chest.

Deliberating, he almost made up his mind: if he wanted a coffee, he’ll need to go to the break room, meaning he’ll need to get out of his office... and that’s just aside of all those chit-chattering employees that always liked to meddle their noses in whatever wasn’t their business. Ah, he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate any of that. But in the other hand, if he didn’t he wouldn’t get his coffee, and gosh, he _really_ needed it...!

...

Well, he better got through those bothering pests just for a while; luckily everyone noticing his mood there won’t be a soul who’d dare to do more than step out of his way.

And so he stood up, and reluctantly he abandoned his office.

*-*-*-*-*

“C’mon, Wally. We can’t help you if you don’t tell what’s happening!”

“Nothing’s happenin’, Ms. Campbell.” Wally answered quite monotonous. “Ya don’ need to worry yerself, but thanks for tha concern.” His smile was polite but notoriously strained.

He was cleaning the tables from the breakroom. It was soon to be noon and with it comes the lunch break and he was commanded to clean it all up before and after lunch there.

“But surely there’s something I could help, ain’t it?”

“I appreciate yer offerin’ but fer real. I just havetta end cleaning this up–...”

Everything went silent when the door squeaked open, and whoever was there doing whatever just froze at the sight of the music director. He stood up there, feeling their fearful but scrutiny stares, and he scorned in response, descending the flight of stairs.

“I– ah...” Wally stammered, but released a sigh. “I finished cleanin’. I’m outta here...”

Tilting his cap down once again, he picked up his cleaning tools and left the room rather quickly, nearly tripping over the musician but avoiding him at a safe distance in the end.

Sammy just looked at him, although too tired for glares this time. Shrugging it off, he made his way to get some coffee, being joined by Susie in the process.

“Rough day, eh Sammy?” She teased a little, but he just huffed. “Why don’t you stay and have lunch with us? It’ll help your soul! ...You do have a soul, don’t you Lawrence?”

Although the musician was on the verge of fuming, he just limited to heavily sigh by his nostrils and turn to her with the most constricted face he could muster.

“My soul is pretty much contented with just coffee, thank you very much.” He turned and started to look around the counter. “Ugh, where is the cream? Isn’t there anything in this god dammed place?”

“What are you talking about?” She questioned as started to stab the jar of clustered sugar with her spoon. “With how cheap Joey is, we are pretty lucky to have sugar here! Although I’d like the guys stop to using their wet spoons when taking it. Gosh, this is so hard!” She hissed as she kept stabbing the jar, and when a few grains got stick to her spoon, she took it in her mouth and then kept stabbing. All under the watchful presence of the horrified music director.

Besides the display of shameless ill-mannered Susie, he couldn’t help the train of thoughts that flooded his mind. Wally always prepared his coffee with cream and two sugar cubes... Sure, the first time he told him as a joke that’s the way he drank his coffee, but he always made his cup that way since. How could he, if they barely had that watery coffee with taste of socks and that jar of stone they pitifully called sugar grains?

Susie stopped, seeing him frozen in spot, seemingly staring at the jar she held in her hands.

“You want some?” She offered and that seemed to take him off his thoughts, as he looked at her, then the jar, and then he shook his head with disgust and a new gruff.

“Forget it. I’ll just have it black.”

And after preparing it, he left.

*-*-*-*-*

Definitively didn’t worth it, that beverage tasted as bad as he thought: as sweat soaked socks. How he could recognize such flavor, better now question it too deeply, as it only made his already insufferable headache to worsen.

The only thing in his mind was to return to the comfort of his messy and littered and wet office as soon as he could. But when he was about to turn the corner leading to his office’s hallway, he couldn’t help but hear a distressed sob.

Curiosity poked and he stopped his pace; the mopping came from the recording room. He stood on the inner threshold, he could hear it, but no one was there. At least not that he could see.

“_Why do I even keep tryin’? He hates me!_” Was that Wally?

“_No, he don’. You just found ‘im in the worst moment possible, that’s all kid._” Oh, so they were at Norman’s booth.

Sammy stayed close to the threshold, out of sight. What were they talking about?

“_No, Mr. Polk. It’s not tha first time. Today was tha worst but..._”

“_Kid, with all honesty, he treats **everyone** like trash. It’s not somethin’ against you, I’m sure of that._”

Were they talking about him?

“_But... but all I ‘ave done for ‘im? I just– keep tryin’ and tryin’ but I’m no more than a fly on tha wall for ‘im!_”

“_You know how oblivious he’s. An elephant could be dancin’ tap right next to ‘im and he wouldn’t notice! And if he do, prob’ly he would just shot daggers thru his eyes before even question why there’s an elephant in his office._”

Ok, he wasn’t _that_ oblivious, although he’d never been in such situations to argue back. At least that last joke did make the young janitor to release a chuckle, albeit weak.

“_Heh, yer probably right..._” Silence, barely his hiccupping sobs could be heard. “_I’m not like an elephant, do I?_” He sounded fearful.

“_Neh, you’re not. First place you’d need a trunk sticking outta your face!_”

“_Mr. Polk, ya know what I mean...!_” Barely above a whisper, it was hard for Sammy to catch what he said; not impossible, just hard. But a tight silence followed that statement.

“_...No, kid. You’re not..._”

Knowing Norman’s personality only fluctuated between a bad timing jokester, easy-going, severe paternalist or straightly intimidating, it was strange to find him being so comprehensive and supporting– at least by what he could take by his soft and quiet voice.

He stood a little longer in there, but the only thing that broke the silence was the hiccupping sobs of the janitor. Sobs that were product of a distressed boy– man, that only was doing his job and had a little accident that actually was the musician’s crew fault!

Did he really shout that bad to him? By the time he already forgot what he said to the poor janitor. Was that bad? Was he so out of his mind to made him believe he hated him?

_I don’t want to see your goddamn face! Ever!_

Oh, gosh... did he really said that?! No surprise he believed Sammy hated him. And Wally also said about things he tried before, what did he mean? What else had he tried?

Wait...

Why was he thinking all of this? _Goddammit, Sammy. It’s not like it mattered!_

But then why he felt his chest so clenched and his throat so tight?

Everything was so confusing and annoying!

_Just annoying..._

He gave a last glance to where the booth was located, and with a sigh and soft steps, he made his way back to his littered, soaked, messy office with a cold cup of watered, tasteless, sock-flavored drink that couldn’t even be called coff–

Between what he expected from what he remembered, what he found could be called having got into another dimension, one of tidiness, organization, even bright dimension. Every sheet of paper he discarded was taken away, and a new pile of blank sheets lied on his desk. There was no more a wet spot, but a spotless, clean and shiny floor. Even the keys he found earlier in the trash can were no longer there, taken. But what baffled the musician more was the steaming mug just in the middle of his desk; the cream still as a lump atop, slowly sinking in the beverage, and two bright sugar cubes aside, ready to be dropped in the hot drink.

Glancing between that mug and the one he brought from the break room, he slowly approached to his desk, taking seat and leaving the later next to the other. He dipped his pinkie in the steaming one; hot indeed, but the cream made it smooth. And the sugar... the only sugar the rest of the studio crew could get in here was from that clustered jar, so how was that he could have pristine sugar cubes? Or more like, if Wally was the one making it, how was that he had those...?

The brightly clean office, the new stack of paper, the steaming coffee...

_He still made all of these things even when he believed Sammy hated him..._

He shouted at him, he mocked of him, treated him like he was an idiot, an illiterate child, as if he was too dumb to notice anything around him, like how the world worked, how people worked...

...or more like how Sammy worked...

He slouched in his desk, clasping his hair tight in his fingers as he let the steam hit his face.

Norman was right. Wally didn’t deserve him.

*-*-*-*-*

Can’t say it got easier along the day, although he could manage to not drop a piece until the entire sheet was useless scrap and that actually made the littered pile– now appropriately thrown in the can instead the floor– to be smaller in the last 6 hours of works versus all he threw away in just the first three.

By the time most of the studio members were already gone, the ones remaining were just busy with the last tasks of the day.

Regardless, what Sammy was currently doing hardly could be called a task, as he remained thoughtful for nearly two hours already. He tried to distract himself with the music, with his compositions, but no avail, and these thoughts lingered in his mind shouting to be noticed, and so he did.

At this point he couldn’t even give himself the privilege to feel angry, irritated and frustrated over those ideas that didn’t leave him alone, as he was worn down, too tired to try even, and so those ideas just settled in him.

Not like he was going to admit it anyways...

A knock on his door and a jerk from his side due the suddenness; Norman was there.

“Hey Sammy, work time’s over.”

There were so many things that Sammy could answer, from his usual sarcasm with something like ‘don’t you tell me’, to just flip off his middle to the man with not even bothering to turn around. But his rage storm had simply worn him down, and now he barely gave a mute shrug as an answer, sinking deeper on his desk.

Norman glanced around. He knew Wally took his chance to clean up this office while the music director was out, but he had never seen it lasting almost as pristine by the end of the day. There were still crumpled sheets on the trashcan, but curious was that it was actually used as trash can instead of littering the whole floor as he did in the morning. It almost seemed like he was being careful about the work of the janitor.

“Huh, this place looks neat!”

“What do you want, Norman?” He finally snapped.

“Just makin’ sure how you doin’. You had a really tough day after all.”

“Sure that’s all...” He muttered and laid his head on the desk flatly. “Nothing else you want to mom me about?” Alright, he opened the chance to drop it.

“You should go and apologize with Wally.”

And despite his weariness, he couldn’t help the grunt to form in his throat as he turned to the man.

“Why do you care so much about that? It’s not like if you were his dad!” And the way Norman shook his head, so filled with disappointment, actually hit him hard.

“I wish I would be. That kid really ‘ave had a tough time.”

“Yeah, sure, because is so hard to swift a broom from side to side.” He turned back, quite ashamed even if he wasn’t going to admit it. Such answers were the ones that most naturally came even if he didn’t mean it by the time.

“I can’t believe you still don’ get it.” Norman finally walked in, and that cornered feeling was dreadfully palpable, even if the musician still refused to look at him. “After all this time, with all the things he done for you...”

“Where do you want to get with this?”

He paused his march, right behind of him. His towering shape projected a shadow that lunged over his reduced figure in the chair.

“Sammy...” The man swallowed hard, feeling the sweat trickle down his forehead. Why he felt so nervous over the projectionist? “Sammy, stop it.”

“Stop what?” He said back, albeit his voice betraying his so called steadiness.

“Just stop bein’ such an oblivious idiot and look at Wally for the first time in your damn life! Can’t you see the boy is dyin’ for you?”

As if a rope tied to his chest tugged him forcefully, he felt the air in his lungs abandoning him for an agonizing moment, as he shot up and shoved away his chair to turn and face the man standing behind.

He... wasn’t as close as he thought, but that look so full of disapproval still burned him coldly.

“Wha– what... do you mean?”

“Really still? Haven’t you noticed how he usually like to spend more time here ‘round, despite he’s the sole janitor in this whole goddamn place? Or how he seems to smile widely at you?”

“That means anything, he’s always smi–”

“What about that coffee that he always make for you? I saw you goin’ to the break room, you can’t be so blind to not notice there’s no cream nor fancy sugar cubes up there.”

Sammy kept his mouth shut, barely could stand that accusatory stare from the man in front of him.

“What about the way he always shrug off every time you mock of him or yell at him, givin’ you a smile and respondin’ to everythin’ you ask ‘im to do?” Norman kept talking, and Sammy couldn’t help but glance aside, casually seeing the aforementioned janitor getting into the organ room, pipe-cleaner in hand and his cap still tilted down hiding his frown. Sammy felt his chest tight, the weight of shame barely bearable. “That kid’s no dumb as you think he is, but he’s still willin’ to do anythin’ as long as he could see you around. But to be honest, I could think he’s a fool myself for bein’ so invested in you.”

Sammy side-glanced the man in his office, trying his best to straighten up his face but was too constricted to look natural.

“Why... are you telling me all this?” He hesitated, but asked anyways.

“Becos I’ve seen the boy. All this infatuation thing has gone since quite a time, longer than I got to know, and the more time it pass, the more he drowns with no knowin’ if his efforts really worth the shot– or shots. So I tell you, so you now can go and ground his mind where it has to be. So go! Tell ‘im you’re not interested, shatter his heart, I don’ really care. But the less the kid deserves is a closure, and only _you_ can give it to ‘im.”

With that final statement, Norman left his office, walking away and out of sight. And once he was sure he was all alone again, he allowed himself to sit back in his chair, askew for shoving it and conveniently looking to the hall, where the door that lead to the organ was kept ajar, where the man the projections was talking about just a moment ago was located.

He hunched, gripping his head on his hands as once again those thoughts about the young janitor flooded his mind. The so many times he called him idiot, moron, stupid, too immature to understand, that he was too childish with that smile always stuck on his face, how he couldn’t understand how people worked...

...seemed like all of this time _he_ was the one that couldn’t understand it...

_Was he really such a disgusting person?_

_Why even would Wally like him... after all he had done to the poor kid...?_

*-*-*-*-*

Wally was cleaning up the pipes of the organ. It was the best he could do by now as he waited for the people to finally leave the studio– and maybe then he could go and enclose him in a forgotten room and cry out loud what he had been bottling up the entire day. At least he knew this task was quite demanding, polishing the pipes in and out, taking off every bit of dust and the pipes would look as bright as new. Yeah, this would keep him perfectly busy–

The hinges squeaked open to then the door be pulled shut, eating away every bit of light right before the lights up were turned on. Steps behind; someone was approaching.

“Wally...” Oh, great. Just when he thought he could last until he left at least...

“He– hello, Mr. Lawrence!” He weakly greeted, not daring to turn behind as his eyes were already stinging. “Do ya need somethin’ I could help?”

“Actually...” _Swallow back your pride, Lawrence!_ “I needed to talk to you...”

“Oh...” He muttered so eloquently, as he lowered his arms and gripped on the edge of the massive instrument. “And what is it?” He didn’t dare to look at him.

“I–...” A bite of his own tongue, hindering his speech. “I... I just...” _C’mon, only two miserable words!_ “Ah! I’m sorry, ok? I shouldn’t have treated you that way. It was unfair and the accident wasn’t even your fault, and you... don’t deserve the way I treat you. I’m... I’m sorry...”

_Deep and slow breaths, Franks. Deep and slow. Don’t quiver._

“...Thanks, Mr. Lawrence. I... accept yer apologize...” He managed to say rather flatly. But he felt him, he was still there. How long would he be able to resist...!

“Aren’t you gonna say something else?”

_Oh, God. What he meant?! Say what?_

“I, ah... I’m... sorry, Mr. Lawrence. I shoulda been more careful with all them stands and I–”

“No, not that! I already said that wasn’t your fault!” He cut him off, and Wally felt cornered. What did he mean? “Really, nothing to say?” _What did he want?!_ “Could you at least turn around?”

Wally felt his blood run cold. _Face him?!_ He couldn’t do that too quickly or else he would burst with all the emotions he had kept inside. So he took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes with his forearm’s sleeve, and slowly, ever so slowly, he turned back, never releasing his grip on the edge of the organ.

Well, there he was, albeit cap still tilted and shadowing his face.

“Take off your hat, _please._” The janitor whimpered, as he knew it wasn’t a request but an order. He took it off, revealing finally his distressed countenance. “Really you have _nothing_ to tell me?”

“I– I– I, ah, I’m... Mr. Lawrence, am so– sorry, but I ‘ave no idea of what–”

“Norman told me.”

Wally shot wide open his eyes, panic crawling up from the bottom of his stomach. He felt it, as his heart skipped more beats than he could notice and the air abandoned his lungs as if he received the worst blow he could ever resist.

“So?” He started to walk, getting close to him.

“Mi– mister Lawrence, please! No– no need to fuzz about it. I– it– it’s not what ya think!” He tried to placate, but with every step closer the more cornered he was. “I– it’s nothin’, for real! Please, I promise I don’ bother ya anymore!” He was standing right in front of him, an arm away. And he couldn’t control any longer the tears prickling down his eyes and the whimpered high pitch of his voice. “I– I– I’ll stay away from ya, I promise! But _please don’ tell Mr. Drew, I know I’m disgustin’ but please I don’ wanna lose this job! I’ll stay away, I promise! P_– _please_ _don’ tell ‘em, don’ tell anybody! I won’ bother you anymore but please–...!_”

“Wally.” Sammy cut his rant off as he grabbed his hand... gently... “Wally, stop it. I didn’t come for it so don’t need to worry about it. I came to know...” He lowered his stare, fixing it onto the hand he was holding. “...to know if that’s true...” He looked back at him, and though his prominent frown never abandoned him, Wally could tell, even with his racing mind, that those eyes never had looked so... soft, even concerned.

The silence stretched for a while, and though the musician showed an amount of patience he had _never_ done before, those eyes, soft, sweet, concerned, frown eyes still begged for an answer. But the janitor’s eyes were drowned in tears and his throat was tightly closed, so the only response he could give was a whimpering nod.

Sammy sighed, and his look wandered to anything around before returning to the young man’s face.

“Why...?”

He swallowed heavily, but his mouth was too dry still. “I– ah, I swear I don’ know. If even I could make it work right, dunno, looking for Ms. Campbell instead, but I–”

“That’s _not_ what I’m asking!” He said rather louder, and the janitor flinched whimpering. Sammy recoiled, lowering his volume. “I mean... why... _me?_ I... I haven’t treated you with anything but despise, insulting you and even making mock of you...! Why then?”

“I don’ know... I don’ know, I swear! I just... saw you tha first time and though–... I thought ya were–... I just... wanted to make ya happy somehow, I don’ know! I just–...” tears upon tears, his cheeks were a constant waterfall. His mind was already racing and his heart beating painfully with fear; how could he articulate what he never understood in first place?

“Wally...” Sammy called him; the weight of guilt and shame was already lead in his stomach, and seeing him so distressed didn’t do any favors to him. “Wally, stop crying...”

“_I can’t..._” his voice wasn’t above a whisper. “_I can’t...! I can’t, I’m scared...!_”

“Of what?” Silence, only interrupted by the janitor’s whimpering. “Why are you scared?”

“_Of ya knowin’...! Knowin’ tha truth and tell ‘em! Of them thinkin’ I’m a deviant, a mistake! That ya– that ya’ll really– really hate me for this!_” His sobs were cutting his voice, hiccups between his words. “_That ya beli_– believe I’m a– a freak! That ya– ya hate me for re–e–al!”

He couldn’t help it anymore, and his cry just burst with the same shock of a little child lost and afraid. His hand holding his cap was so tight that almost hurt, and he fought to not grip the other man’s hand as hard or worse. His legs were wobbly, he just wanted to plump himself right there and recoil to a dark narrowed corner, to be left alone with his grief. But Sammy didn’t allow it, not with the way he was looking, nor with the way he held his hand, nor with the way he reached with his arm behind him and pulled him in a tight hug, releasing his hand to be able to engulf him, pulling Wally’s head onto his shoulder and muffling his sobs as he stroked his hand on his hair, and trying hard to keep together all of those pieces the janitor was tearing apart from himself.

“Wally, no. I don’t hate you...” He never heard his voice so low and soft, and him talking so close to his ear made the goosebumps to mix with his already shivering body. “I can’t even think about it; with all you’ve done for me... but... I’m the one who can’t notice the elephant dancing...”

Wally barely could believe it; Sammy Lawrence, _the Sammy Lawrence,_ tried to humor him! But albeit his efforts, he couldn’t do more than just sigh as a weak imitation of a laugh with a wobbling frown.

“The truth is...” The musician continued. “...that I... I really can’t get relationships... I just can’t...! Not even as a child, not even making friends. I always kept my mind straight forward and whenever I was teased about if someone liked me, I just booked it, just thinking that they were a bother. But now, with all that you’ve done for me, all you’ve been through for me and what Norman told me... I just... I can’t believe I’m so oblivious! And treating you the way I did... I’m so sorry I never had idea. I really am.”

They stood that way, Sammy making sure Wally would calm down eventually as he stroked his hand up and down through the janitor’s head and neck, even downer to his back. Time didn’t matter, he just wanted to make sure he’d be okay. And when he felt the young man’s hiccups recede and his shoulder no more damp than it already was, he pulled him away, enough to be able to see his swollen red and tired eyes, but keeping him close as he held him by his shoulders.

“Wally?” The man mentioned felt so tired, exhausted, he didn’t think he would be able to react to anything the music director could throw at him anymore; perfect instance to be dropped gently.

“’m okay, Mr. Lawrence...” He held the man’s wrist, ready to pull him off him when the bomb was dropped. “Thank ya. I really appreciate yer apologize and all ya been with me, for real, but... I know what comes now, so if ya–”

“You _know?_” Sammy questioned, not allowing him to drop his hands from his shoulders. “Franks, I didn’t come here to tell you a lousy story of why I don’t hang out with people. I didn’t come here to tell you a sad story of my childhood, nor I spent half an hour in my office trying to think of a way to tell you I’m sorry for you to just shrug me off in the end.”

Wally’s tears stopped from how dumbfounded he was. The idea of that not being all opened a new race of thoughts as the same time he found himself frozen in spot, trying to articulate anything, mind begging for an explanation, but only able to mumble incoherently, fear rising up his throat as his eyes widened in growing panic. Signs luckily caught by the musician.

“Wally. Wally, stop it. I told you, I didn’t come for it. So better stop it and listen... _please._” He added as trying to placate the sever tone he used to use, as he held the younger man steady. “Wally, I came... I just... What I’m trying to... _Arg!_” Sammy roared frustrated, tensing up and not noticing how tight his grip on the janitor’s shoulder was getting.

“Mir– Mister Lawrence, yer hurting me...!” He hissed as his knees wobbled, in the verge of bending as to escape the grip but unable as the musician held him on spot, almost pinned.

“It’s just... I... _AGH! Iwanttogiveyouachance!_” There, he said it. and as quickly as his words tripped out of him, he let go of the janitor and turned, mumbling through a hand that muffled his words– if there’re even words.

Wally had to pause to make an effort to process the phrase in its individual words. And even though he wrote and rewrote his sayings on his mind, it still didn’t allow him to take the weight of such sentence.

“Mr. Lawrence, I’m sorry, but–”

“It’s ‘Sammy’.” He interrupted, catching off ward the even more dumbfounded janitor. “Stop calling me ‘Mr. Lawrence’. I told you, I want to give you... a chance... You don’t have to keep the formalities.” Sammy added as he slowly tuned once again to the young man, standing on his statement as firm as he could. But seeing Wally broken on tears once again wasn’t what he expected. “Wally?”

“_No... No, I can’t...!_” He cried out muted, not allowing such statement to sink in him

“What? Why not? What do you mean?” He reached Wally’s arm but he shoved away, retreating until he hit the organ keys, shaking.

“_This is wrong... This is wrong...! I can’t let ya, this is wrong!_”

“Why are you saying that? Who says so?” He approached him, but Wally flinched as he shook his head in denial.

“_Everyone... everyone says... they will talk, they will judge... they will tell Mr. Drew and then will be all for us! They will kick us out, that would be all for yer career, and I can’t let that happen!_”

“Then they don’t have to know.” He finally held him, stopping his trembling head as he cooped his cheeks with both hand, gently forcing him to lock stares. “You are the best knowing what happens around and what not. No one will be able to say anything without you noticing.”

“_That’s not how it works. The one they talk about always is the one who knows at last!_”

“Then what about Norman? He knew and he didn’t say anything to anyone before. He knew about you and you do trust him, do you?” Sammy waited for Wally to nod at least. “Don’t you think he would alert you in case of anything?” Another jerked nod.

“_It’s too much of a risk. Ya could lose everything!_”

“Would I lose you?” The silence from the janitor stretched fearfully, only interrupted by his hiccupping sobs. “Would I?” Wally’s jaw clenched as his neck jerkily started to move side to side, prompting his head to shake in negative. “Then I’ll take the risk. I don’t want to see you wearing yourself for me and still acting like, like a jerk around you. You... don’t deserve that. And if this is what I should do to at least return a part of all you’ve done for me...” A pause; Sammy sighed flickering his stare and breathed deep, gathering his own courage as he locked his eyes on the janitor’s ones. “...then I want to be with you. And don’t start with all those things of ‘is wrong’ or ‘you can’t’ or ‘people’ll talk’. I’ve never gave a damn to what they say and I won’t start now. If you want to, we can keep formalities in public. But...” He released his wet cheeks as now he was looking for Wally’s hands to hold together. “...from now on, I want you to know that I’m with you, Wally. And better get that in your head ‘cos I don’t pretend to change my mind this far, got it?”

And he stood there, holding his hands as they got tighter and tighter on his grip, shaking as reflection of all the janitor’s body. Sammy studied him thoroughly, expecting any other sign from him that could replace his tears. But again, against anything expected, hiccups of a repressed cry started to leak from the young man’s throat.

And as Sammy’s unsteadiness grew, Wally let out his cry out loud, no more barriers holding it in, and bereaved wails broke through his vocal cords, all while he parted his grip on the musician’s hands and threw his arms around the man’s shoulders, clenching his fits around the back of his shirt, afraid of letting go, as if this very moment, this very man, could slip from his embrace and reality would come to mock of such a ludicrous fantasy of him. But no, he was real, he stood there, prevented him from fall back and over all that, he... accepted his feelings. He was willing to be together, to be with him.

“Hey, Wally, now what’s the problem?! I thought this would make you happy somehow? Why’re you still crying?” He asked puzzled and still quite reluctant to such unprompted contact. 

“I– I do! I am! Sorry, it’s just... Sammy, I love ya so much; I’ve loved ya fer so long...! I can’t... please, tell me yer not lying, tell me this’ real! Please...!”

_Love_... the weight of that sole word suddenly made it feel way too much real for Sammy, whose thoughts and movements slowed as he tried to let that sink. Oh, gosh, he wasn’t just a silly infatuated boy, he meant it! How long had he been suffering this hard for him, if he even deserved such affection? That only made him feel more of an idiot than he already assumed; one thing was hear that from someone else not involved, but another entire level was to hear that from the main source. He... he really was deep down on his heels for him, and Sammy couldn’t give the chance to screw this.

“This... this is real, Wally.” He finally said quietly as his arms engulfed him too, comfortingly, reassuringly. “I’m not... I’m not lying, I’m with you now... I am for real...”

That was the last statement of the musician, allowing the silence be filled by the cries of his companion, which were slowly subsiding though he never let his grip to loosen. All the while he gently stroked his mess of a hair, careful of not tugging it too hard, and pressed his cheek against the janitor’s neck, somehow dumbfounded of himself as he never had been so gentle before, let alone touchy. But that only remained as a buzzing bug in the back of his mind, as new questions started to brim in the frontline, as what he should do to not mess this, or if he will ever be as deserving of so much affection as the young man invested in him, or what his natural fragrance would be under all those chemical smells he sported thanks to his job. Cinnamon and honey was the first thing in his mind albeit random as he really hadn’t felt such... was it too soon to smell and guess?

“_Wally? Wally, my boy, where are you?_” The voice of the head of the studio, so gleeful and charming as only a severe boss voice could sound, thundered from behind the door, making both of theme to go as still as statues, hoping for no intromissions in the room.

“_Sorry, mister Drew, but he’s kinda bussy right now._” Norman voice intercepted the first one, to what both new lovers shared a glance full of concern.

“_What do you mean? An hour has passed since work time’s over and still there’s a lot of things that left!_”

“_Didn’ you hear the rough day the boy had? He already did everythin’ else he had to, just give ‘im some time and I make sure he’s done with everythin’ else._”

Silence stretched but no footsteps; seeming like he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Until a sigh was heard.

“_Will you make sure he’s done with all of his tasks? I don’t want him waddling around because some lost keys._”

“_Don’ worry boss, I’m sure he’s already on check to do that._”

“_Alright, I trust_–...” He felt silent, why was that for? “_Did... did Sammy leave already?_” He questioned, seemingly having looked to the empty office.

“_Nah, I’m pretty sure he’s in the restroom. Y’know, too much coffee can really do effects inside if you don’t eat properly._”

Again the silence outside stretched, but inside Wally was fighting for retain his giggles in, earning a side glare from the foretold man that, curious enough, didn’t burn even half of what they used to.

“_Alright, then remind Wally to go and check the toilets whenever he finishes, okay?_”

The last part seemed to fade as footsteps joined to the outside noises, fading as they progressed and out of earshot finally, allowing them to finally break the silence.

“That’s a close one...” Wally released first, shaking fearful yet quite excited against the risk proximity.

“Yeah, luckily Norman was there to–...” Sammy halted in his words as realization hit on his self. “Does this... does this mean that Norman heard us all along?”

Wally stared at him, as confounded as him while he tried to process the statement, though swollen eyes didn’t allow him to focus properly.

“_No, I wasn’t. I just passed by the last part of your chat tho, very movin’. Now, would you two lovebirds get outta there? I don’t think Joey will eat another ‘xcuse if you take any longer than already._”

The last part sounded faded, distant, but how quiet the projectionist’s footsteps used to be was hard to tell if he already left. Their only indicator was the silence reigning once again, one that was cut by the giggles of the janitor and a humorous roll of eyes from the musician.

“You know, now that I think so, is weird not having heard your laugh in the whole day. It really fills the spaces.” Sammy complimented as Wally earned a darker tone on his face, tenderly looking at the man. “Okay, we better keep moving before anyone else notices.”

He spun on his heels, ready to go, but a hand was trapped, laced with the other’s one. Wally’s giddy face had his stare lock on the act, cheeks still warm though no longer from the tears; and he walked to be right next to the man– _his_ man, contemplating the height difference as his own chin barely reached his shoulder. His goofy smile, so pure and now incontrollable, raised along the rest of his features to see the music director’s eyes, so compassionate as never before, and even a lopsided smile creeped up to his face.

“Sorry, it’s just... I never thought this could really happen...!”

Sammy just watched him, watched as he never did before. And with eyes fluttering and lips puckered, he bent a little, enough to reach his cheek once again, only that this time giving a soft and tender kiss on his side, leaving the young man completely stunned.

“Well, seems like it is happening.” He humored right when he parted from his side, releasing his hand as well and walking towards the room entrance. “Now better get things done, Franks. If Joey already came once he surely will come back to check you have it all done. Understood?”

He stood still for a while, holding the doorknob but not quite opening it yet. He looked over his shoulder, eyes half lidded as he gave the janitor a last glance. And with a contained huff, a slow close of the eyes and a tender smile, he gave a solemn bow with his head to his new couple before abandoning the room.

Wally couldn’t be more flustered.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


End file.
